Time and Space
by Dibbzy
Summary: One shot. Clockwork musing to himself on the subject of time and space. Warning, completely random.


The ghost zone was quiet. It was always quiet. The doorways and landmasses floated in the abyss of green and purple swirls, stretching on for longer than most ghosts cared to think about. Ghosts went about there ecto-lives, doing what they did day in, and day out, not that day had a particular meaning. Day is a vestigial mode of time measurement based on solar cycles. It's not applicable in a mono-streamed zone of emptiness. Not that it stopped people. It was obviously a Wednesday or something.

Clockwork, of course, was really the only one who could measure the time as it came and went in the ghost zone. But then again, he knew everything, didn't he? Not that it particularly mattered. Ghost's drifted by his castle like structure like they drifted by every other structure in the ghost zone. It wasn't important. And that was the way Clockwork liked it.

It was a lonely existence, but it was what he chose. It made it easier. The only being's who could come close to understanding the importance of that castle were the Observers, and look how difficult they made it. They were the closest, but they were still so far off understanding time as it came and went, that there wasn't even a word in English for it. Time, as Clockwork would say, is complicated. As he once told a young ghost, the observers watched time like a parade. Clockwork saw the parade from above, and all the twists and turns it might, or might not, take.

Young Danny had just accepted it. The Observers accepted it. Content in there knowledge that this time was the centre of time.

Clockwork had decided long ago, it was just better not to say it. It would make him sound big headed to say his castle was the centre of time and space. It had always been there, yet it had hardly been there at all. To understand it you had to understand that time was not straight. All time that crossed through Clockworks tower had no coloration on the when, or where, it just was. And what it was, was a big ball of cause and effect bouncing it's way in circles.

Standing in his hall of time, he could see the birth of first human alive, and the destruction of the last one on earth, in the same relative space of measurement. Time was irrelevant. He could read the story of every person, every animal, every creature, plant, ghost, being, backwards, forwards, up, down, side to side. It existed any where and any when he chose to play it out. He could see every possibility of events, every death, every life, every choice, every aspect of inevitability, all crossing place in time, all viewable at once, yet thousands of dimensional years apart.

Time was strange. It was a big ball of possibilities and paradoxes. Time was everything. Lines were predominant, and the possibility to change it existed, but only to those who could see it. Only those who could see time could act on it. They could watch and see where it was going, and act, change coarse as needed. But if someone couldn't see, they make there choices on what they know. Even a flip of the coin was predictable, based on how velocity changed, force, and spin. There was choice, but there was no chance. Everything came to its inevitable end, from its inevitable beginning, based on the elements of everything that surrounded it on its way, bumping and crashing in to everything else, event's causing way to shift. And that's all everything was. Nothing could exist on its own. The observers didn't get that. But that's why they didn't act. They saw predominance, not inevitability. They were just one element in the clockwork of space and time. Playing its part, keeping it all going.

Clockwork knew the inevitability of action kept things spinning, and moving. He saw that the beginning and end were decided upon at the same point in the motion of the universe, and the inevitability of the action to keep it happening would make it happen. The possibilities were only open to those who could see them. And the only one who could see them, really, was him.

But he couldn't tell everyone who crossed his path. So it was better to just say the parade from above. How could you tell the Observers that as soon as they demand Clockworks action, he gets a visit from them once again, warning him of his interference and choice, over an event that has yet to play out yet played out already. It was enough to send anyone insane. Things change when you look at them, because you look at them

So he sat in his castle, watching the events of time come and go, shifting where he pleased and liked, inevitability becoming change, and choice in his hands. But it's not like you could tell anyone.

They wouldn't even believe him when he told them it was Tuesday.


End file.
